


The Act of: Death-Defying Affection

by NotSafeForWork



Series: Love's not the way to treat a friend [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:21:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSafeForWork/pseuds/NotSafeForWork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the "Love's not the way to treat a friend" universe. The events at the end of Act II and how Anders, Fenris, and the rest of the gang deal with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from yet another poem by Richard Brautigan, because I just like sticking to a theme, and also because it fits.

Anders paced the floor restlessly, having given up on getting any work done or doing anything other than worrying.

It was late, and Fenris still wasn’t home. By itself that wasn’t odd enough for more than a passing twinge of unease, but after yesterday’s incident he felt like a bout of floor pacing anxiety was completely called for.

It seemed like all the troubles in this city were growing worse, and intruding on the fragile peace that his relationship with Fenris had brought the both of them.

This was the first time in weeks that he truly regretted not insisting on accompanying Hawke and the others. After Leandra's horrible death, Hawke had been less than friendly with the mages in his group and Anders had made a point out of staying out of his way. 

Whatever else you might say about Hawke, he had always been a devoted mama’s boy. Most likely because Leandra had thought the sun rose and set according to her eldest child's whims, which was exactly the way the big Fereldan thought everyone should think of him. Hawke had always striven to put his best face on around her, and to present all of his decisions in the best possible light. He had even managed to make letting Bethany get hauled off to the Gallows look like a sacrifice he was making.

Anders sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to tamp down the rising irritation that accompanied those thoughts. No matter Hawke’s faults, there was no denying that he was genuinely devastated at the loss of his mother and strongest supporter. But the manner of Leandra’s death had hardened his stance against mage’s rights, and the blond had not wanted to antagonize him by insisting he go along.

Yesterday, however, they had been doing a 'favor' for the Arishok that had ended up with them fighting in an alley full of a qunari gas called _saar-qamek._ The healer had never heard of it before yesterday and he had certainly not been prepared when, after he had just gotten home from the clinic, Fenris had burst through the door and run straight into one of the rooms that they never used, bolting the door behind him. Anders had been baffled by the strange behavior, and a tiny bit frightened too, so he had banged his fist against the door, demanding an explanation.

Fenris had roared back in another language, possibly several other languages, and the sound of breaking furniture added to Anders' fear and confusion. He was preparing the break the door down when there was a pause in the commotion, and the Tevinter spoke in a roughened voice that seemed to be fighting for restraint.

“Anders, I am not...not in control of my mind. You must leave me in here until the madness passes. Do you hear me? Do not open this door...and make certain the cat stays out as well.”

“Fenris! I want to _help_ you, what can I do?”

He heard a snarl and something shattering against the wall.

“Nothing! Just stay away from me...it will pass.”

He spent the next few hours in an agony of worry, not knowing what was wrong with his lover and debating whether he was doing the right thing in following his request. Finally, when the noises from within the room had given way to a silence that stretched beyond bearing, he put his weight behind one shoulder and ran at the door.

And found himself falling inward as the door gave way easily. He looked around the shattered remains of the room and then back at the doorway, noticing that Fenris must have somehow ripped the bolt right off. It was only due to the debris piled against it that the door hadn't just swung open earlier.

His eyes swept over the rubble again, looking for his lover. He finally spotted him mostly buried and only semi-conscious under what was left of a bookcase. Anders quickly pulled him out from under the broken boards and half-dragged, half-carried him up the stairs to their room. The normally inexhaustible elf had fallen asleep as soon as he hit the bed, and hadn't awakened even while Anders removed his armor and cleaned and healed his numerous wounds.

This morning Fenris had still seemed tired, but otherwise back to his usual self as he had explained about the _saar-qamak_ and the crazy elf who had unwittingly unleashed it. The Tevinter said that the gas caused madness in non-kossith, and that while he, Hawke and the others were fighting their enemies it had been controllable, or at least focused, but when it didn't wear off right away they had all agreed that they needed to lock themselves away until it passed. For Fenris the feeling of wanting to rage and destroy things had grown worse as he had made his way back to Hightown, which was why he had come home in such a state.

After a quick once-over of his armor and sword he had left again to accompany Hawke; first to speak with the Arishok about what had occurred, and then to confront a large group of Tevinter slavers that Aveline had gotten a report on.

The healer had offered to come along, but Fenris had reluctantly declined. Anders wished he had pushed harder, as he didn't think the elf had really wanted to leave him behind. Now he was stuck here worrying that something even worse had happened today.

Another fretful hour passed before the Tevinter finally arrived home looking just as ragged, but not nearly as maddened as he had the day before. The healer breathed a sigh of relief as he automatically moved to help his lover out of his armor. Although there were still points of tension in their relationship, they had grown comfortable enough with one another to make a habit out of these little acts of intimacy. 

Indeed, once Fenris was in nothing but leggings he wearily dropped his forehead to rest against the nape of the healer's neck and just stood there while Anders gathered him gently in his arms. The blond man nuzzled into the elf's white hair and said firmly,

“I'm not getting left behind anymore. I can't handle this waiting around wondering what terrible monsters you are facing without me.”

Fenris disengaged himself, nodding his head in agreement even as he spoke,

“You know why Hawke has been unwilling to have you along recently, and he is even less friendly with the blood mage. But you are correct, it is unwise to leave our healer behind.”

He paused, and Anders' waited expectantly.

“And I...prefer to have you with me.”

The healer smiled, relishing the little buzz of happiness in his chest that always accompanied these hard-won confessions from the elf.

“It's not so difficult to say is it? I prefer to be with you as well.”

When Fenris gave a soft little snort and looked down at his feet Anders just smiled and rolled his eyes. He gestured towards the big desk in the corner,

“I saved you some supper, you should eat and I'll go draw a bath for us.”

The elf gave him a grateful look, either for the offer or because he had changed the subject, and moved to do as the healer suggested. 

~

When Anders awoke the next morning he was filled with a hollow feeling that was uncomfortably familiar. That feeling that told him he hadn't been sleeping, but he had no memory of doing anything else. Just a blank spot in time.

The bed beside him was empty, and as he sat up he spotted Fenris sitting on one of the benches by the fireplace. The elf was leaning forward so that his elbows were resting on his knees with his face buried in his hands. He must have heard Anders stirring, because he lifted his head up to give him a wild-eyed stare that the healer had never seen on his face before. Even at this distance he could clearly see the whites of his eyes outlining the green on all sides. He looked...freaked out. Not at all a common expression on his normally implacable face.

“Fenris, what is it? Did something happen?”

The elf rubbed his hand across his forehead and straightened up in his seat. He looked away when he began speaking, and Anders had to strain to make sense of the low rumble.

“Last night...your spir...Justice decided he needed to speak to me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justice and Fenris have a little chat.

Fenris could tell from the way Anders sighed and slowly swung his legs around to a sitting position on the side of the bed that he wasn’t surprised by his words. The blond man’s brows were pulled together over his worried brown eyes and he knew he was waiting for him to explain. But Fenris had barely pulled his rattled thoughts together and did not know what to say…did not know how to feel. He needed time alone to think.

He got to his feet and grabbed his sword from the spot in the corner where it always rested next to Anders' staff. He could feel the healer’s eyes following his every movement, and while a part of him wanted to offer reassurance he honestly didn't know if he could. He finished strapping on his sword and then turned back to Anders while he pulled on his gauntlets.

“I am too...unsettled to speak of this now. I need some air, but we will talk later.”

He left quickly before the other man could protest. It had taken a great deal of restraint to sit and wait for Anders to awaken before he fled to be alone with his thoughts, but he knew he had caused the healer a great deal of worry in the past couple of days and he at least owed him the barest of courtesies.

The sun had just cleared the horizon by the time he entered the Chantry garden. He had many doubts about the Chantry, but he was grateful for the one place in this city where it was always quiet.  He made his way to a secluded bench where he liked to come and spend time with his thoughts. It was still hidden in the long shadows cast by the wall, and although the stone felt cold through his leggings the discomfort did not even penetrate his thoughts.

The spirit…the spirit had spoken to him and he had no idea what his next course of action should be. Last night he had been awakened by a strange rumbling and a blue glow that was not his own. Anders eyes had opened but it had not been Anders that was behind those cerulean eyes, it had been this _other,_ this thing he was afraid to put a name to because to name it meant defining it. Spirit or demon? He had never felt so unsure.

He had given in to Anders’ insistence that it was a spirit he was harboring in his head because it was true that it did not possess him in the way that demons always possessed people.  This spirit had never spoken to anyone directly; the rest of them only ever saw it in moments where Anders was too furious to control it. Isabela had often joked that he and Anders must glow at each other when they were angry and in truth, he had begun thinking of the “spirit” as just Anders’ version of his own temper, not as a being in its own right.

Until last night, when it decided it wanted to have a conversation. Fenris had shot out of bed as soon as that blue gaze had turned towards him, his markings flaring in response. Lady had jumped up when he did, and escaped to hide under the bed. He had stood trembling with anger and no small amount of fear as the…as Justice began to speak.

“I am Justice. Anders has told you of me.”

Fenris did not relax his defensive pose, but he did allow the lyrium to go dormant again as he realized he had never heard the spirit speak like this.  He waited, unnerved by the blue light leaking through the cracks in skin that had become as familiar to himself as his own. The elf couldn't help but wonder if the healer's skin ached afterward, the way his markings sometimes did. It was only after the pause had stretched into definite silence that he realized the spirit was waiting for him to speak.

“I...I am Fenris. Why are you doing this to Anders? What do you want?”

Justice stood unmoving in front of the bed. It was not just the luminescence that marked him as someone or something different; the way he inhabited this body told Fenris this was not his mage. Anders never stood like this; every line in his body as straight as a sword, the rigid pose of a sentry standing at attention. When he spoke again his voice carried less of the rolling thunder he associated with the spirit's possession, and more of the deep, firm voice of a man.

“I am aware of who you are. Anders has been greatly distressed by your absences these last few days. I had warned him that forming an emotional attachment to someone would be a hindrance to his cause, but I no longer disapprove of his desire to have a relationship with you. You are worthy of admiration, and your presence has exerted a beneficial influence on us both.”

Well, that was...something. The healer's spirit apparently approved of him and here he only now fully understood that Justice was capable of having his own opinions.

“However, now it seems that he is more distracted by your absence than your presence. It is only right that he should fight at your side when you battle your oppressors.”

Fenris shook his head, the tension in him easing a fraction and leaving him feeling bemused by the whole situation.

“My oppressors? I accompany Hawke on his various...ventures. I merely fight those who oppose us.”

“They have been demons, bandits, slavers, templars, and criminals. People who have wronged others. It is righteous to strike them down. And have you not sought out slavers to dispatch of them, even when you have not been asked to do so? ”

The spirit seemed to speak only in declaratives, even when it was asking a question. But Fenris replied anyway,

“Sometimes I do, yes.”

“Then you are assuring that they cannot enslave more people. That is justice.”

If Anders had been living with this relentless voice in his head it was no wonder he could be so difficult at times.

“You are not entirely wrong, but you are not entirely right either. I hunt slavers because they would hunt me if they knew I was here.”

“You could simply run, instead you confront your enemies. Doing so prevents them from subjugating others, whether you intend to or not.”

The sun had begun to creep across the Chantry garden but it still hadn't touched the shadowed corner where he was sitting. Fenris shifted on the cold bench as he considered the rest of last night’s odd discussion. The spirit had questioned him about his experience as a slave, had scolded him a bit more for leaving Anders behind, and had pushed the idea of striking a blow against his oppressors. The elf had gotten drawn in to the exchange and was soon arguing with it as freely as he did with the healer. Was that foolish of him? Was Justice really a demon… was this what it was like being tempted by a demon? If so, it wasn’t at all like he had imagined. The demon had offered him nothing he wanted, just a giant burden to carry.

He had seen plenty of mages succumbing to demons, becoming abominations…when the demon in the Harimann’s basement had made its offer to Hawke and Sebastian it had felt like he thought a demon would, manipulating their desires and offering them what was difficult to refuse.

But, to seek an end to slavery? He had no difficulty refusing such a thing, it was just asking for a short life filled with frustration and besides, he still wasn't sure what to do with his own freedom. And it hadn’t manipulated him, it had argued and scolded. He felt an upwelling of sympathy for the healer, understanding a little better the voice that drove him.

Justice. Fenris wasn’t sure he even believed in such a thing. He wanted to ask it what good it did, being a spirit of Justice in the Fade when there was no justice evident out here in the real world. In fact, that was a disquieting realization, to think that he would speak to it again if presented with the opportunity. That he wanted to speak to it again, to ask it the questions that he had been too shaken up to think of, to satisfy his curiosity. Was that how the demons with nothing better to offer got to you?

He was more thankful than ever that Hawke had not taken him into the fade to rescue that elf mage. Isabela had spoken to him later about the offer the demon had made her, and how she accepted even as she knew it was a lie because she wanted it so badly she couldn’t turn down even the smallest hope that it might be true. He had thought at the time that he would have been able to resist, that he would never fall prey to a demon, but there had been the smallest sliver of doubt. Now he had spent an evening chatting with something from the fade, so he wasn’t sure his own judgment was to be trusted.

Especially considering how their talk had concluded. It had startled him a little when a vaguely wistful tone had crept into the spirit’s voice.

“It has been a long time since I have looked directly at the mortal world. I see things more clearly this way. Still, there are some things I can still perceive as a spirit would, such as how you sing in battle.” 

That was the most surprising thing the elf had heard in this long, bewildering night.

“Um...pardon?”

“You sing on the battlefield. It is the most beautiful thing I have witnessed yet in this world.”

“I don't sing. You must be thinking of the dwarf.”

“I am not. The lyrium is like music, and the way you use it when you are fighting...it is indeed beautiful. I have noticed that you have become more proficient in the use of your power.”

Fenris merely grunted an assent, uncomfortable with the compliment. He was also tired of the discussion and unsure why he was allowing this being to pry when he refused such nosiness from those he had started to consider friends. The spirit was not dissuaded by his attitude and continued.

“The more controlled your power becomes, the lovelier the music.”

The spirit finally broke his stance, sitting back down on the bed.

“I will allow Anders to rest; I know it is distressing for him when I have control. I just wanted to ascertain that you would no longer be leaving us behind to do nothing while you fight.”

With that he lay back down and closed his...Anders eyes. The light dimmed, the cracks disappeared and soon he just looked like Anders again, sleeping as if he had never been disturbed.

It was at that moment that he realized that throughout the entire conversation _he did not even reach for his sword._ It hadn’t even occurred to him to arm himself. Only when the spirit had departed did he notice that his weapon was sitting where he had left it. The shock of that realization had drained the strength from his legs and he had dropped down onto the seat, his head sagging into his hands. And so he had remained until the healer awoke.

That was the thought he had come up here to contemplate, chasing it around in his head, but all paths led to the same conclusion: he was not going to be the one to kill Anders. He _couldn’t_ kill Anders, no matter what strange beings he was harboring inside himself, as long as Anders was truly in there as well.

That left him feeling, not just vulnerable, but a little purposeless. At the very beginning of their relationship he had told himself that he would be able to do what was necessary should the...what he thought at the time...inevitable occur. But he no longer knew what should be done, and now he no longer trusted himself to be the one to take care of things.

The thought that he had become so attached to a mage that he had no defenses left filled him with the urge to run again, but he knew that he wouldn't. If by some chance Danarius did come looking for him, Fenris knew he would ask Anders to stand with him, would want him to be there for that confrontation. His escape had been a choice he had made without thinking, and he had to deal with whatever consequences came from it. Anders’ choice to help the spirit also held consequences, possibly unintended, and he would not leave the healer to face them alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders discovers that Fenris' markings may be more than just flashy.

Anders sat on the bed long after Fenris had left, reeling from the implications of what might have happened last night. In the years since he had merged with Justice, the spirit had only taken control in moments of great anger or when they were terribly threatened. Even then, there had always been more of Vengeance in him than his old self. But to take control and speak to someone...that was something he had never done and Anders had no idea what it meant that he had done it now, and to _Fenris_ , of all people.

The pressure built in his head until he could feel pushing at the back of his eyes, so he pinched the bridge of his nose as if that would relieve it. There were so many emotions swirling around inside him he couldn’t put a name to them all. Anger, the thread that stitched through everything over the past few years, of course that was present. This anger had a coloring of desperation running through it; a shade of _please don’t break this_. There was also a kind of petulant confusion, _why now when I’ve finally found a little bit of happiness?_ As well as suspicion with a hint of fear, _what are you planning and why Fenris?_

The last thought became a solid question, and he reached out inside his mind to the spirit, expecting no answer back as always. So it came as a tremendous shock when he heard Justice's familiar but almost forgotten voice speaking at him from the depths of his own mind. 

**“You worry needlessly. He will not forsake you.”**

_I've finally gone mad._ The thought was accompanied by something that was almost relief. 

**“You are not mad.”**

“Justice?”

**“Yes. It has been...a long time since we have been able to converse. Since we have needed to.”**

“Why…how? Since we merged it was as if we have been becoming one…being. How could it be any different now?

**“Something has begun to change since you have begun associating with the elf. I am not sure how, but there is power in his markings that he does not fully comprehend. As he gains control, I can feel changes in the lyrium song, changes in the direction the power takes.”**

This last revelation was too much, and the healer folded forward until his chest was lying on his legs with his head hanging between his knees. Over the years he had become resigned to the effect the merger had on his autonomy and he had consoled himself that it was the sacrifice required of him in order to further his cause. Death and the dissolution of self, those were the penances he could accept. But the renewal of hope...that was something he wasn't sure he could take.

“You think that his markings are somehow...separating us?”

**“I do not know for certain. I only know that when we merged, the joining was more complete than I had thought it would be. With the loss of individuality, being surrounded by your feelings, I have been unable to think thoughts that were wholly my own.”**

“Yes, yes I know.”

Anders had noticed that his own thoughts were less colored by Justice's influence lately, but if he had thought of it at all he thought it might be because, for once, there were happier thoughts to balance out his rage. But if Justice thought those markings had something to do with it then...he had never thought much about why Danarius had done what he had to Fenris. The elf had said Danarius had wanted a bodyguard who showed off how powerful he was and he was a twisted bastard, so, end of story. 

But when he really considered it, the ritual necessary to craft lyrium onto living flesh must have required great skill and expense. Yes, having a flashy glowing bodyguard was impressive but maybe not so much that it was worth all of that money and effort. However, if there were another use for a living creature branded with lyrium…now the thought began to take hold of him. Who was this Danarius, and what had he really intended to do?

He would have to look carefully around the manor and see if there were any books or research notes that would help him puzzle this out. Of course, Fenris had discovered that the manor actually belonged to a Tevinter merchant and Danarius had merely borrowed it so he might not have much luck there. The healer grimaced as he imagined what Fenris would think about him wanting to take a look at the Magister's research.

His thoughts turned back to his lover, still not entirely reassured no matter what Justice said. Fenris had never exactly been supportive of the spirit's presence; he had said outright that the merger was a foolish mistake, and he had never seemed entirely convinced that Justice wasn't a demon, although he had ceased to say anything about it. 

Anders felt better inside his head than he had for a while, and it would be a shame if that was the thing that ended up driving the Tevinter away, since Fenris seemed to be the cause of it. 

**“As I have said, he is loyal to you.”**

Along with the words he felt the confidence of the spirit as if it were his own, as he had always done with whatever Justice was feeling. So they were not completely separate, they just weren't as intrinsically combined as they were before. He felt a small sense of relief at that, he had grown somewhat used to the sharing of feelings and although he felt a greater relief at the idea of not dissolving entirely into the stronger spirit, he wasn't sure at this point that he wanted to carry him as a separate passenger in his head either.

“He may feel loyalty, but it has not changed his view on magic, or de..spirits.”

**“His views on magic are colored by the injustice visited upon him by those...Magisters.”**

The peculiar emphasis the spirit put on the word Magisters, accompanied by a flash of righteous rage...it was if a whole trial and sentencing had taken place in the space of a word. He wondered again what he had discussed with Fenris. Back when he had first met Justice the spirit had often lectured him on his lack of responsibility toward his fellow mages and their oppressors. He used to say oppressor, and later Templar, with that same tone of final judgment. He shivered a bit, thinking that if he had never expected to live to see the end of one righteous cause, he knew for certain he'd never make it to the end of two.

He sat, lost in his musings for a while, and Justice remained silent for so long that he wondered if he were through speaking. Even as he thought that he heard the spirit's voice again,

**“Do you remember the elf mage woman, when we fought with the Warden Commander?”**

Anders wondered if Justice had been following his own thoughts, or if he had just happened to wander back in memory to the same place; when they had first met.

“Velanna? How could I forget her? Fenris used to remind me of her on a daily basis, just despising me as a mage instead of a human. I had thought perhaps there was something inherently dislikable about me to elves.”

The spirit brushed right past that to the point he wanted to make,

**“We had spoken once of murders she had done in retribution for what humans had done to her kind.”**

Huh. He had never known Velanna and the spirit spoke of anything meaningful. He had only ever heard her commenting on the decay of Kristoff's corpse.

“Yes, so what did you say?”

**“I remember, I had asked her if judging each person by their own actions and choices was not the right thing to do.”**

Anders waited for him to elaborate but the spirit remained silent so at last he prompted,

“And?”

**“It is just that...that is a thought I had forgotten. No, it is more accurate to say that is a thought I have been unable to properly think for some time.”**

The healer felt the strangest upwelling of feelings, sorrow and joy all intermingled, impossible to tell who the source was for each. He felt, rather than knew, that whatever was happening here, there were things being lost as well as things being gained. But the loss was minor compared to the gain. He was regaining a friend he thought forfeit to his own corruption as well as regaining some crucial sense of self. He closed his eyes to hold back the tears, but they leaked out anyway, as did the laugh he gritted his teeth to stop. He felt the definite retreat of the spirit this time, pulling back from the excess of his emotions. Finally he gave in to it, laughing and crying at once, leaning forward with his arms wrapped tight around his own waist, hugging himself. Holding himself together.

That was how Fenris found him when he returned. The elf stopped in the dimly lit doorway, his white hair glowing pale in the faint morning light that made its way into the room. He gave the blond man a look of both bemusement and concern, which subtly reassured Anders that he at least still cared. 

“Are you all right?”

Anders pulled himself together and wiped his eyes with a shaky hand. 

“I don't know about all right, but there are ways in which I am feeling better than I have in a while. As long as you haven't come back to kick me out.”

He had meant to say the last in a teasing way, and he almost managed but his voice cracked a little on the last two words. So he cleared his throat and tried to school his face into casualness as he met the elf's green eyes. Fenris' face was inscrutable as usual as he sat down on the bed next to the healer. Lady jumped up into his lap and he automatically yanked one gauntlet off and began absent-mindedly stroking her as he spoke. 

“No, I am not going to kick you out.”

It was as if his heart had actually stopped without his noticing, and it had just restarted at the elf's words. For a moment he was actually dizzy and he barely kept himself from flinging his arms around the Tevinter or doing anything more outrageous until he heard what Fenris had to say, but he already felt like it wasn't going to be as bad as he feared.

The elf continued petting the kitten while sitting quietly next to him, and for once Anders didn’t mind waiting for him to gather his thoughts. It was enough for the moment that he had returned, and was willing to discuss whatever had happened. The healer didn’t want to contemplate how he would feel if Fenris had decided to end…this. Ever since his disastrous morning-after with Hawke he had been reluctant to reveal his heart, and he wasn’t sure the elf would welcome any grand declarations considering he was still a little uncomfortable with the smallest displays of affection.

Still, he knew from the fear he had experienced when Fenris left this morning that he would be bereft without him now. It was strange to think that as devastated as he was after Hawke had dumped him, it was possibly the best thing that could have happened since that was what led to Fenris and himself regarding each other as something other than adversaries.  
Finally the elf's hand stilled, and rested on the cat's back as he turned his gaze on Anders. He hesitated a bit as he spoke, but his voice was steady,

“Your spirit...last night when Justice began to speak to me I thought perhaps you had finally lost control and it meant to kill me at last. Instead he lectured me about my duty to the rest of the slaves in the world.”

Anders' chuckle was still a little watery and thin, but it grew stronger as he saw the warmth coming back into the jade eyes. 

“Yes, that's exactly how he used to speak to me about the mage's cause; that since I had gained my freedom I was obligated to fight for theirs.” 

“I told him I had no interest, but he is most persistent and likely would have argued all night. I have decided that with such a being in your head it is no wonder you are so annoying.”

Anders blinked, wondering if perhaps he was sleeping and this was all happening in the fade, because there was no way that Fenris could actually be teasing him about this. Well, dream or no, he could give as good as he got so he smiled and said cheekily,

“I know, stubborn and self-righteous. Who ever would have guessed _that_ would be my type?”

Fenris gave him a puzzled look, and then one eyebrow slanted up sharply as his meaning sunk in and Anders' knew he was filing that remark away for later. As long as there _was_ a later, he just didn't care. The elf's face grew serious again, and he returned to stroking the cat, looking down at his hand as he softly remarked,

“This morning, I wanted to run, but...”

He trailed off, and for a long time there was no sound in the room other than Lady's purring, as the elf's hand methodically ran from the top of her gray head, down her back, and along her tail to the end and then back again. Eventually the blond man cleared his throat questioningly,

“But?”

Fenris turned back to him with a wry smile,

“But I couldn't. It would have been pure cowardice if I had; letting my fear drive me away when I would rather stay. It seems whatever madness you have conjured, _mage_ , I will be at your side to face it.”

His intense gaze held the blond's and then he lifted the kitten from his lap and set her beside him on the bed, and for a moment Anders thought, rather _hoped_ , he was going to grab him for a passionate kiss. But that was obviously hoping for a bit much, because instead Fenris stood up and offered the healer his hand to help him up as well,

“I ran into Hawke on my way back through Hightown, and he said that Varric thinks he knows where Bartrand is hiding. He wants us to be there when he confronts him.”

Typical of the Tevinter when it came to the emotional issues, advance and then retreat. However, Anders knew very well that as casual as the elf was pretending to be, their relationship had just taken a significant turn. Besides that, Anders was just grateful that he wouldn't be asked to choose, because the choice had been made ages ago when he decided to merge with Justice. Everyone one else would always have to come second, no matter how desperately he wanted to make them first in his life.


	4. Chapter 4

Fenris watched the healer carefully as he packed several vials of potions into various pockets concealed on the inside of his robes. The robes themselves were threadbare and torn, as were the trousers he wore underneath and the boots on his feet. His feathered pauldrons looked more bedraggled than ever; the presence of a kitten in the house had not helped in that regard. In spite of all this, his honeyed eyes seemed to glow with more vigor than he had shown in some time.

He had said that he was feeling better than he had in a while, and Fenris suspected that whatever changes were taking place that allowed Justice to come out and have a conversation were also affecting Anders. They had not spoken much of exactly what had occurred between Fenris and the spirit; Anders had seemed distracted and emotional and the Tevinter was still feeling too wrung out to want to discuss it in depth.

Truth be told, despite his misgivings about Justice’s existence, he had to admit that if whatever was happening was having some sort of beneficial effect on the healer then he was glad. In those weeks before Anders had gotten together with Hawke, and immediately after he had been dumped by him the healer had been growing steadily more ragged and gaunt, giving the elf the impression he was slowly disappearing.

In the past couple of months he had acquired a healthier look. He had explained that it was easier to sleep because the spirit was lulled by the presence of the lyrium, and that had made sense to Fenris even though it had unnerved him a little at first. Given what had just occurred he thought there must be something more going on.

When Anders finished preparing and gave him an expectant look he pushed the thought aside for later. Whatever it was, they would figure it out.

When they got to Hawke’s mansion Aveline was there but Varric wasn’t. Hawke was still dressed in his house clothes and he greeted Anders easily, so Fenris thought that the warrior must have decided to ignore or forgive Anders status as a mage for now. When Fenris queried Varric’s whereabouts the big Fereldan shrugged and said with studied casualness, 

“He decided that it would be better to approach his brother’s mansion at night, in case we had to do any breaking and entering. So in the meantime I thought we might track down some blood mages for the Chantry.”

Fenris felt Anders stiffen beside him, although he said nothing. So, this was either a test of some sort or a punishment. The warrior could be very devious when he felt it was called for, and he had been irritated at Fenris’ insistence that Anders begin accompanying them again.

Well, test or no, as long as they were truly blood mages he didn’t think it would be a problem. Although Anders pitied them and blamed the Chantry for driving mages to desperation he also had a fierce hatred for blood mages, thinking that they only fueled the poor reputation of mages and hindered his cause. It was one of the things about the healer that had led him to begin trusting him in the first place.

There was an odd thought, that in spite of everything he really did trust Anders. He still thought he was liable to make foolish choices, especially if he persisted in this “revolution” idea he had begun to talk about, but now that Fenris had spoken to Justice he had a greater understanding of why he would make those choices and what they were about.

When Sebastian entered the foyer he heard Anders exhale with a small hiss of irritation. The elf was torn between amusement and a growing annoyance on behalf of his lover. Hawke was definitely trying to punish the healer, taking him along to hunt down mages and selecting the companions that he got along with the least. 

Fenris, on the other hand, had always gotten on well with the guard-captain and the Prince of Starkhaven, so he had always found Anders antagonism towards them just a tiny bit funny. The elf had always felt an especial respect for Aveline, who tried her damndest to maintain the order in a city that seemed bent on chaos and who was a loyal friend besides.

So while Hawke went upstairs to change and the healer occupied himself with staring at the spines of the books on the shelves and ignoring the other two, Fenris walked over to Aveline and spoke to her quietly.

“Hawke seems to have become completely reconciled to your relationship with Donnic, which is rather odd behavior for him. How did you manage that?”

Aveline looked mildly surprised as she answered,

“After I finally got through all that nonsense with Donnic I just told Hawke that I owed it all to him, and that I could never have done it without him.”

Fenris stared at her mutely, a little taken aback. She gave him a wry smile,

“What Hawke likes best is being the hero. He doesn’t go off and help all these people out of altruism, or because he needs the money anymore.”

Fenris gave her a little smile, 

“So you’ve let him become the hero and he’s forgiven you for choosing someone else and ignoring your advances. Clever. I must admit Aveline, that is more…calculating than I would have credited you with.”

Aveline just regarded him calmly,

“I do what I can to keep the peace.”

When Hawke returned downstairs they set out for the Wounded Coast, the warrior having gotten a lead on one of the apostates from one of Varric’s many informers. It was mid-morning and the walk through the city was uneventful and quiet, the group of them discussing the implications of the quanari situation. 

When they got to the Wounded Coast, they wandered around picking flowers and other potion ingredients for some time without seeing any sign of the apostate. Hawke spoke easily to Anders about Solivitus and his facility with making potions. Fenris half-listened, noting Hawke’s easy manner and Anders’ guarded but still casual responses. 

When they finally found Heborah de Solaire he took one look at Aveline’s guard uniform and attacked them. 

They had fought this same fight so many times by now that they moved in perfect harmony against the Shades the blood mage summoned. Swords to the front while arrows and spells came from behind, it was going so smoothly that it was quite a shock when, after taking a few hard blows from Hawke’s sword Heborah suddenly vanished. The three warriors, who had been closest to him, started looking around frantically but Anders turned and pounded the end of his staff against the ground while gesturing towards the end of the pathway that led away down the hillside. The ground shimmered green as the glyph took shape, highlighting the shape of the mage as he suddenly appeared. 

Hawke strode forward and cut him down quickly before the paralysis could wear off and everyone breathed a little easier when he fell to the ground without pulling any more new tricks. Aveline turned to Anders and gave him a tight grin,

“Nice work. I didn't even know that mages could disappear like that. How did you know which way he went?”

Anders looked at her and said a little pointedly,

“Well, we mages do come in handy occasionally.”

At that Hawke gave Anders a sharp look, and Fenris sighed to himself and waited for the resulting explosion. Sometimes the healer’s timing was just atrocious. To his surprise Hawke laughed and grabbed Anders shoulder and gave it a friendly shake,

“You’re right Anders, how could I ever forget how handy you are?”

Before the growl in his chest could become more than a whisper Hawke had let go and started walking back toward the city, calling out cheerfully as he went,

“One down, two to go. Let’s get this done before sundown people, we still have to meet Varric in Hightown.”

Grumbling under his breath and wondering if he would ever grow used to Hawke’s mercurial moods Fenris fell into step beside Anders at the rear of the group. He looked curiously at the healer as they walked and asked softly,

“How did you know where he went? Is sensing other mages an ability you get from Justice?”

Anders shrugged and gave him his cheekiest grin while he answered in almost a whisper,

“I couldn’t sense him at all, it was just a lucky guess.”

At the incredulous look the elf gave him he threw back his head and laughed.

~~~

It was well past midnight by the time they got back home, having helped Varric get his brother to a safe, if temporary, haven. Every time Anders thought he had seen it all and could no longer be surprised anymore, something even stranger happened to prove him wrong. Tonight it was seeing Varric's brother, seemingly driven to madness by that idol they had found in the Deep Roads. He was glad he had come along, if it weren't for Bartrand's brief moment of sanity he wasn't sure Varric would have spared his life. But he had, and Hawke had gone along with it, so at least Varric had been spared the anguish of killing his own kin.

He thought about how oddly complimentary Hawke had been to him, thanking him for his help and remarking on what a good healer he was. It seemed out of character given how he had been feeling about mages just a short time ago. He looked over at where his lover was standing by the hearth and thought about bringing it up, but Fenris seemed deep in thought. He also seemed not likely to sleep soon so Anders said goodnight and got into bed by himself. Of course, once there he was unable to drift off, so he instead he lay there petting Lady and watching his lover pace back and forth in front of the fire. Between the incident with Justice, the strangely friendly way Hawke was treating him, and the bizarre events in Bartrand’s mansion he not surprised his lover was preoccupied.

Finally Fenris turned, and seeing Anders watching him, seemed to come to some sort of decision. He came over and sat on the edge of the bed, and for a long moment did nothing else. But Anders recognized from the nervous way he rubbed his hands against his thighs that he wanted to talk about something difficult, so he waited patiently until Fenris finally began to speak,

“I don’t think this is something you can understand, but I...I never wanted to be free. While I was a slave...I never even thought of it. When I awoke after the ritual that gave me these markings, the first thing I saw was Danarius and from that moment I belonged to him. I mean, truly belonged, it was something I felt in my soul, that my only purpose was to serve him. I don’t know if that was magic, or part of the ritual, or simply gratitude at having _something_ to cling to after everything else had been swept away.

Whatever the cause, I served him faithfully, and completely. Whatever he wanted me to do, I did as well as I could because I wanted to please him. I wanted to please my master. I hated Hadriana because she was cruel, but also because she had a power over me that I thought no one but Danarius should have. I was...jealous that he would share me with her, that he would allow someone else to mete out the punishments that I wanted to come from his hands alone.

When I think of it now, it sickens me. How eager I was to be nothing but a tool in that man’s hands. You told me once I didn’t have the right temperament to be a slave, but you wouldn’t even recognize me if you saw how I was then.”

Anders made a small sound, whether of negation or protest he wasn’t even sure, but Fenris raised a hand to indicate he wasn’t through talking.

“My freedom came to me by accident. I had gone with Danarius to Seheron when there was a qunari attack. I got him to a ship, but they said they had no room for a slave on board so he was forced to leave me behind. I barely made it out of the city alive, and a band of rebels known as the Fog Warriors found me and nursed me back to health. The Fog Warriors were like no people I had ever known. They thought that everything had a right to be free, even me. I argued with them, and they pushed back at me constantly. They asked me, if you have to clip a bird’s wings to keep it from flying away, haven’t you stolen it’s essence? What’s left is just a shell, and no one should be reduced to that. Such ideas were outside my experience then, and in the months that followed I came to respect and admire them.

They refused to allow Danarius to take me when he returned. They would have fought to give me a gift I never asked for, and one I didn’t deserve. When Danarius asked me to kill them, I did. I killed them all. And when I was done I looked down at their bodies...and something just broke inside me. I ran without even thinking, without even knowing what I was doing. And I have been running ever since.”

Anders took a deep, steadying breath before he replied, 

“Fenris...I don’t know what to say. Except that...you aren’t the monster, Danarius was. You’re brave, loyal, and honest...the most frankly honest person I know. What happened was the Magister’s fault, you know that right?

But his lover kept his head down and wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he knew that a few words weren't going to make Fenris stop feeling the weight of those deaths. He thought of the bodies he had left in his own wake, and thought about how some things were impossible to forgive yourself for. Still, let him see that Anders forgave him, even if he couldn’t absolve himself.

“I mean that Fenris, you can’t carry the blame alone. And I am very glad you’ve told me, although I’m not sure what prompted you to tell me this tonight.”

Finally the elf raised his head, and looked at him intently as he replied,

“It was talking to your spirit. He wants to free the mages, and now maybe he wants to free the slaves. Can’t you see it just isn’t that easy? You go storming through the Gallows, kill the Templars and then what? Many of them will just go crawling straight back to their cages, because freedom isn’t even something that they want. It isn’t something that they’ll understand.”

Anders could feel Justice wanting to respond, but he told the spirit sharply that right now this was between him and Fenris.

“It doesn’t matter. Even if only a few of them want to be free, don’t they deserve it? And look at you, look at how you’ve grown since then. They can learn how to be free, they can learn a different way. Maybe not all of them, but even one would be enough to make it worthwhile.”

Fenris had risen to his feet again and was walking agitatedly back and forth while Anders’s spoke, and when he replied this time he was practically shouting,

“That’s just your spirit talking! He doesn’t understand the risks!”

Anders jumped to his feet to face his lover, his voice rising in answer,

“No, that’s me talking. That’s the mage who is so grateful for his own freedom that he wants to give it to others. Maybe Justice taught me to think like that, but I can see for myself that he’s right.”

Fenris came closer, his face twisted with anger and he snarled,

“You have always reminded me of those Fog Warriors and this is why. You’re going to sacrifice everything for these mages, and one of them is going to use that freedom to turn on you.”

Anders knew Fenris was just voicing his own fear, and self-hatred for what he had done so he forced himself to calm down, 

“Fenris, if there is another mage like me in there, trapped and desperate to get out, don’t you think they deserve to be free?”

“Venhedis Anders, there is no one else like you, that’s why it isn't worth the risk!”

Anders sighed, 

“You keep thinking of their deaths, and yes it was horrible, what Danarius made you do. But you have done so much good since then...no don’t shake your head at me, at the very least there are less slavers in the world. Instead of fearing what could go wrong, you need to think of what could go right, just by doing the right thing.”

Fenris, still shaking his head in denial, slumped down onto the edge of the bed. Anders sat down beside him, and when he hesitantly put his arm around the elf’s back Fenris turned into his embrace and held him tightly. After being grasped in that unshakable hold for what seemed like hours Anders finally broke the silence, saying wonderingly,

“You’re frightened aren’t you? You’re frightened you’re going to lose me.”

Fenris straightened up and gave him a look of sheer exasperation and snapped,

“Of course I am, you idiot! You seem determined to pursue disaster, you won’t listen to reason, and eventually we’re going to face something that we not strong enough to defeat.”

Anders couldn’t help it, he knew this was a serious conversation but after all they had dealt with already today, they needed it to end on a lighter note. So he grinned and kept on teasing,

“You couldn’t stand to lose me, you don’t know what to do without me!”

Fenris just harrumphed and looked away from him, but Anders saw the tension leave his posture. He wasn't even put off when the elf crawled under the blankets while grumbling,

“That’s it. I’m going to bed.”

After the weight of sharing his lover’s pain and anger, this little bubble of laughter made him feel a bit light headed. Fenris had said “we” with no hesitation at all. He could feel Justice’s satisfaction at this reaffirmation of loyalty, and he understood now that Fenris would follow him straight into the Void. He would be complaining all the while about his stupidity, but still, he would follow. 

He crawled under the covers beside his lover, feeling for the first time that he was truly not alone.


End file.
